THE MATING BALL

POV: ARAYA , KADE

She shouldn’t have trusted it.

The parchment was too smooth. The seal is too clean. No dirt on the edge, no curl. Too perfect — tucked beneath the straw of her kennel mat like hope daring her to believe.

But it was real.

The wax bore the Alpha House’s mark — a crescent moon over a spear. She’d only ever seen it on letters to nobles. Never like this. Never for her.

She pulled it free, trying not to tear the edge. She wiped her dirty nails on her hem before touching the seal — as if clean hands would make it more real.

With trembling fingers, she opened it.

In the light, the words glimmered:

You are formally invited to the Moon Ball, held to celebrate the mating season.

All wolves of age and unmated must attend.

You are the one chosen.

– By order of the Alpha House

She read it once.

Twice.

A third time, whispering:

“You are chosen.”

The words clung like glue. They didn’t mock. They sounded like... salvation. A whisper of something long denied. A door cracked open.

She stared until the ink blurred, until her thumb smudged the letters and her throat ached with something wild — something dangerous.

Could it be real?

She’d never been invited to anything. Not a feast, a blessing, not even the blood moon vigils.

She was the cursed one.

The wolfless.

Forgotten.

Yet here it was. Her name. The Alpha’s seal. A summons to the one night when fates were decided.

Could it be a mistake?

A cruel joke?

She flipped it over, searching for smudges, cruel doodles, anything to reveal the lie.

Nothing.

Just her name.

And a command:

You are chosen.

That word again — chosen.

Maybe the Alpha had changed his mind. Maybe obedience and silence had finally earned her something. This could be her only chance to be seen. To be something else.

Her chest fluttered — then panic rose.

She had nothing to wear.

No silk. No jewels.

Only a patchwork dress was made from scraps behind the tailor’s shed. She’d sewn it by candlelight, pricking her fingers raw.

The bodice didn’t quite fit. The shoulders pulled when she breathed. But it was all she had.

She cleaned it in the cold stream, sleeves rolled high, hands aching from the ice. The moon turned the water to glass. She crushed her last bit of stolen lavender into the rinse — a soft scent of hope.

It wasn’t silk.

It wasn’t moon-blessed.

But it was hers.

Her fingers bled. Her lips cracked. She kept going.

She hung the dress on a low branch, hidden from the path. For a breath, the moonlight made it beautiful.

Just for a breath.

No jewels.

Only worn slippers.

No perfumed hair, no powdered skin.

Still, she would go.

Because the letter had come.

Because someone had remembered her name.

Because, for once, she mattered.

For the first time, Araya let herself pretend. Imagine she wasn’t the kennel girl. The orphan. The ghost child. The one punished for speaking too clearly.

She let herself believe the Goddess had finally seen her.

But deep down, she knew — it was too good to be true.

Something would go wrong.

Still, she would go.

She couldn’t disobey the Alpha’s order.

She walked through the Grand Hall's silver-plated gates with shaking hands and sore feet, her head down and her heart racing.

That was when the first wave of laughter came.

"She came?"

She actually came

Oh my moon goddess

"Is that really who I think it is?"

"And she wore that?"

"Who let the dog out of the kennel?"

"I didn’t think she would actually attend.

Can't believe she fell for the oldest trick in the book.

Laughter broke like bones breaking under teeth. Cruel, Sharp and Mean.

Araya stood still in the doorway of the great hall, her throat closing and her breath coming in short bursts. The soft golden light that fell from the crystal and magic chandeliers felt colder now, as if it passed through her without touching her.

The marbled floor under her worn-out slippers burned with judgment.

Her dress — stitched with trembling fingers, patched from threadbare scraps scavenged behind the tailor’s shed — felt heavier with every step.

Too tight.

Too plain.

Too full of foolish hope.

Eyes swept over her like knives.

Not with curiosity.

Not with awe.

Only contempt.

Mockery.

Even pity wouldn’t touch her.

She had thought about this night. Not in a big way. Not like the Luna hopefuls who wore perfume and silk. But not too loudly. Without making a sound. A single prayer that the invitation might have been real. That someone had seen her. That the Moon had remembered her.

She had even put braids in her hair.

Like she was meant to be here.

As soon as she stepped over the threshold, the illusion broke.

All the wolves in the room looked at her. Some with smirks. Some people squint their eyes. Then the whispers started. They weren't quiet or careful; they were loud enough to rip skin.

"What is she doing here?"

"Maybe she's here to entertain us”

They whispered loudly enough for her to hear them.

"Maybe she's here to do some cleaning." After all, that's the only thing she's good at

"Someone call the Beta, there’s a stray in the ballroom.”

Another screamed.

And yet she walked forward.

But she kept going.

Because there was still some hope in her that things could change for the better.

Kade Blackthorn stood near the front of the ballroom. The heir to the Alpha. Tall, royal, made of ice and shadow, and dressed in black and silver.

At first, he didn't see her.

But when he did, he froze.

It was not obvious. Just the twitch of his nostrils. The movement of his shoulders. His eyes suddenly got sharp and focused on one thing and one thing only.

Her.

Then he took a breath.

One breath.

That was all it took.

The bond blew up behind his ribs like a holy war.

MATE his wolf yelled

His wolf charged forward, its claws tearing through his mind as it growled, snarled, and claimed him.

The scent —was unlike anything he had ever smelled.

It was holy, Sacred Smouldering sandalwood · Honeyed embers · Wild moonflower · and a whisper of divine starlight and it was the most intoxicating smell he had ever smelled

It looked like no one had noticed.

She was still the wolfless runt in the room.

And to him, she meant everything.

And that was where the problem lies.

He stepped back.

Another one.

He said, "No," in a low voice. Shaking.

"No. No No No

His hands turned into fists.

Eyes still on her, lips pulled back like a snarl that was barely hidden

"Not her," he said softly. "Not that thing"

But it was too late.

The bond has snapped into place

The truth, he can't run away from.

He was aware.

She wasn’t

The only one happy was his wolf.

It growled low, constant—

“Mate.”

Like a curse. Like a claim.

Araya froze.

The air around her shifted—like the gods had just inhaled.

The pack noise blurred into silence.

And then she felt it—

That looks.

The Alpha heir’s eyes found her.

Pinned her.

Stripped her bare with nothing but loathing and disbelief.

Like, he recognised her.

Like he’d tasted her name in a nightmare.

Like he wanted to erase her from existence.

And stars, it hurt.

Not in the way bruises hurt.

But in that hollow-bone way,

The way rejection slices deeper than claws ever could.

She had never spoken to him.

Had never even dared to look him in the eye.

They were not equals. Not even close.

So why did his gaze feel like it remembered her?

Why did her soul flinch?

Someone behind her spat,

“She’s not even a wolf.”

“What the hell is she doing here?”

The weight of their stares returned.

Mockery.

Disgust.

Not even the mercy of pity.

Her dress clung tighter.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

And still—his wolf whispered it again.

“Mate.”

“She probably forged the letter herself.”

“Is she begging for scraps?”

“Like anyone would mate that?”

Laughter. Cruel. Louder.

Kade’s eyes flared—his wolf rising, snarling for her.

But he wouldn’t yield.

Not to her.

“Enough!” he snapped.

The music cut.

Silence slammed the room.

Every gaze turned—

First to him.

Then to her.

Alone. In the centre of silks, sneers, and silence. A mutt in a palace.

She didn’t even know why.

Kade walked forward.

Each step: a threat.

Each breath: a judgment.

He stopped just close enough to see everything.

The scar.

The dirt.

The hope in her eyes was too stupid to hide.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Araya Stormborn.”

“Get on your knees.”

Her body obeyed before her mind caught up—knees cracking against marble.

Kade looked down like she was filth.

“I, Kade Blackthorn of the Blackthorn Pack,” he said coldly, “reject you, Araya Stormborn, as my mate and Luna.”

The words hit like a guillotine.

The ballroom froze.

The ballroom froze.

Her name echoed once—then died.

And deep inside her, something cracked.

Not the bond.

Something older.

Hungrier.

Waiting—

And the Alpha had just given it a reason to wake.